


good morning

by goodbyes



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, [clenches fist] i would die for yamamitsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 12:53:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbyes/pseuds/goodbyes
Summary: They were always each other’s favorite cure for insomnia.





	good morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikharlow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikharlow/gifts).



> for my darling ❤️

Being an idol is, one could conclude after a hard day of dancing and singing and moving, _hard._ That isn’t to say all the time, passion, and effort isn’t worth it, no; all of IDOLiSH7 would agree that none of their talents are being wasted on their group. They flash candid smiles at the world, the world smiles back with a sort of newfound fulfillment, and that more than makes up for the stress and strain of the trade.

But _damn,_ if it didn’t feel nice to catch a break.

The seven idols could feel their shoulders collectively dropping and muscles relaxing as they all passed through the door into their shared dorm, the thought of relaxing a more than welcome counterbalance to their shared exhaustion.

“Remember,” Tsumugi says from behind them, her voice dripping with evidence of sleepless nights spent working, “we don’t have anything scheduled tomorrow, so please take it easy. You all were amazing tonight. Goodnight, and sleep well.” She takes her leave, leaving the seven boys behind her to part ways as well. They exchange goodnights and shuffle off to their respective rooms.

Yamato feels like he’s the only one who can’t sleep. He stares at the ceiling, mind buzzing with idle thoughts. He lets his gaze lower, down to the floor where Musashi dutifully glides across the floor, sweeping up the settling dust. He eyes the door, wondering if it would be worth it to take a walk just to wear himself out— _ping._

His phone buzzes with a new text message.

 

**Mitsu [2:41 AM]**

_r u up?_

 

He smiles and unlocks his phone— _no, i’m asleep. zzz_ , he sends back. Almost instantly, _ping._

 

**Mitsu [2:42 AM]**

_*eyeroll* i’m coming over there_

 

The eldest idol blinks and makes an attempt to grope the nightstand for his glasses as the door opens— “Blind old man,” teases a soft voice he’d recognize anywhere, “it’s me.”

His boyfriend, Mitsuki, sits down at the foot of his bed with his back against the wall and his legs folded to his chest. Not an unwelcome guest by any stretch of the means, but an unexpected one.

“Can’t sleep?” Yamato asks, nudging Mitsuki with his foot. His response is a small shake of his head, _no._ “C’mere.”

The younger man obliges, crawling up next to the other and curling into his side, making himself at home in the space between his boyfriend and the wall. Yamato forgoes finding his glasses in favor of turning to face Mitsuki, wrapping an arm around him and placing a feather-light kiss to his forehead. His Mitsu, in turn, takes to burying his face in Yamato’s collarbone.

There’s no audible conversation, everything that needs to be said is conveyed through their movements. _Much better_ ; a contented sigh felt through the fabric of the eldest’s thin t-shirt. _I’m glad you came,_ says a leg slipping between the younger’s knees, _I love you,_ continues the slim fingers running through sunset-orange hair.

They’ve always been each other’s favorite cure for insomnia.

•

Mitsuki awakens first in the morning, unable to tell where he begins and where Yamato ends. He attempts to untangle himself despite his boyfriend’s death grip, to no avail. He resigns himself to having to wake Yamato, an experience comparable to forcibly waking a bear from hibernation.

“Yamato,” he mutters softly, running his fingers across a tanned arm.

Nothing. _Sigh._

“Wake up, you old man. I have to make breakfast. Unless you want Sougo making it.” He punctuates each sentence with a poke to Yamato’s face, which, to his merit, he stirs slightly. And proceeds to pull him closer.

“Mitsu…” he slurs through the layer of sleep coating his voice, “...stay.”

_Sigh,_ but louder this time. “Yamato—“

“We don’t have anywhere we need to be today, babe. Relax. Stay with me.” With that, a pair of lips find Mitsuki’s and press lightly, leaving the ghost of a touch behind when Yamato pulls back to press his forehead to Mitsuki’s. Their noses barely touch as bright orange eyes look back into sleepy brown ones, now reflecting some degree of awareness.

_God, why did Yamato have to be so endearing sometimes,_ the trapped man thinks to himself as he kisses Yamato back, a gentle answer of _fine, I’ll stay._ And as he knocks their heads together again: _but it’s your fault if we’re stuck eating ridiculously spicy food._

Yamato grins sleepily, _victoriously_ as they stay in place, holding each other, breathing each other in in their own sanctuary away from their busy, whirlwind lives.

  
Yes, being an idol was a rambunctiously busy life indeed. It was hard work and exhaustion and dealing with all sorts of roadblocks and impasses to climb over. But both of them would agree that everything, _everything_ leading up to days like these was so worth it, if it meant they could make people happy; and, more privately, more intimately, make each other happy as well.

**Author's Note:**

> this was shorter than i wanted it to be but it b like that sometimes 
> 
> follow me on [twitter](%E2%80%9Cwww.twitter.com/floorb6%E2%80%9D) for terrible posts
> 
> this is my first work for the fandom so feedback is greatly appreciated!!!


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